Both literal and figurative. I loved working out but frankly, for the past week I haven't cared enough to get off my big blubber butt and do anything. I feel all whiny and lazy and just icky enough to not feel the burn.
I'll do it tomorrow while the guys are asleep, maybe it'll get me back in the zone. Pray for me people.
This last week -
I've been threatened by an angry man with an ax handle while at home alone with my kids.
My dog has been playing too rough with the neighbor's dogs and since mine is stupid and gigantic and it wasn't his yard,guess who's to blame?
I would have put up a fence, but the same jackass waste of flesh that has effectively stolen my car also stole back the fencing we bought from him.
I've had a conversation or two this last week that made it clear my MIL's dislike of me at a core level, on principle - yeah, not so much grown out of as I believed. Any unhappiness, smart mouthing, swearing, consumption of alcohol, and religious indifference rests squarely on my shoulders. I am Da Debbil.
A repo agent knocked on my door, looked in my windows and garage and took pictures of the address to have proof she was here. That's always nice.
You know what I needed today? Poop. Yes, at least I got what I deserved ONE day this week. This morning my youngest, who always tells me when he has to poop, didn't have a word to say. I found him diaperless and disgustingly messed up in my room. For one shining moment I had a glimmer of hope that he had been in my bathroom for the use of the toilet.
Nope.
I went around the house twice trying to find it and had no luck. I washed him up and then washed all of the places I could see he had been. Two hours later, my middle son comes running up the stairs and in his charming way, wordlessly hiked a foot on to my lap as though I were a bar at a dance class. I was confused til the silent yet wild gesturing brought my attention to the poop allllll over his foot.
I gagged a lot and cleaned him up. I gag when dogs lick my toes as well, there is something about those two... hrack. OK, moving on... I followed the tracks down from my chair in the office to my bedroom, my bathroom, back out to the stairs, down to the living room, across the dining room to the kitchen. Where I found my clean dishtowel carefully laid over the site of the crime. Over that was a dining room chair.
That's not the end of my journey. The dog who can't be outside anymore has attached himself to my hip. He gets the worst gas. Disgusting stink. More gagging. Now that he can't go outside alone, I have to put him on a chain if I don't have the time to stand out there and watch him. Only problem is that he sees the chain the way some people see another person in a public bathroom - and it shuts it all down. He already has a tiny bladder and I let him out 8 times a day average. But now I let him out and in at least twice for every urge because he CAN'T GO when on the chain.
It doesn't make it any easier that I haven't felt well in days. I sometimes feel hungry but end of eating half of my meal before I'm done. My stomach feels heavy like a rock and all my food stays right up to the top of my neck.
Moral of the story? None. People suck. Poop is nasty. I have too much of both in my life right now. Save me.
